


i will come back from the dead for you

by Kendarrr



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, F/F, Happy Ending, because frankly I've had enough of otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendarrr/pseuds/Kendarrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I'm in the hallway again, I'm in the hallway. The / radio's playing my favorite song. Leave the lights on. Keep talking. I'll / keep walking toward the sound of your voice. <a href="http://yupnet.org/siken/2008/03/18/7/#21">x</a> </i>
</p><p> </p><p>starts before ep 33; ignores ep 35. fills in the gaps of all that time Carmilla is not in the dorm room with Laura. her search for the Blade of Hastur. conversations with Mother. an offer she 'can't' refuse, but does. saving the world and looking cool doing it. kissing Laura because that's what heroes do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will come back from the dead for you

Silas University in the middle of the night is Carmilla’s favourite time of the day. The stillness of the place. Moonlight glistening on blades of grass. The ancient hallways where every step echoes against wood and marble, carrying the heavy, hollow sound of lonely feet. The calm that enshrouds the quad. Every night, Carmilla revels in it. She sits by the windowsill, admiring the stars. Every night, like every moment is a precious chance that threatens to be wasted.

 

“Aren’t you going to come to bed?” Laura asks, clad in plaid pyjama pants too long for her, so she rolled them up until her heels are exposed. She’s wearing a white v-neck shirt and Carmilla notices that she removed the Band-Aid’s on her neck, leaving the crinkled web of skin exposed. Laura’s question strikes a bell inside Carmilla. For a flash of a second, she imagines this absurd and implausible future. Laura asking her that same question but they are miles away from where they are now, with only one bed in the room.

 

“In a bit,” whispers Carmilla. She looks up at the dark sky, prickled with small lights. She almost does not hear the soft padding of Laura’s footsteps. Instead of sliding into bed, she stands beside Carmilla, her hand on the vampire’s shoulder.

 

“You seem tired,” Laura points out. “Is it all that research I’ve been making you do?” There is a hint of worry in her voice and Carmilla wants to pull her into a hug. Though of course, that is not something she is wont to do. “I’m sorry for making you do all these things.” Her hand shifts to caress the length of Carmilla’s arm. It lingers on the back of her palm.

 

Carmilla shakes her head and turns to face Laura. Whenever she looks at her, there is this moment of fear. What if Mother is back inside this girl? What if Mother is back and this time, out to consume Laura? The vampire sucks in a breath and takes the tips of Laura’s fingers in her hand. “I’m fine, cutie. Don’t worry about me. _You’re_ the one who needs to sleep. You’ve been up since six in the morning trying to do everything and anything.” She rises to her feet. Leads Laura to her bed and pulls back the blankets. “In you go.”

 

The human girl smiles, amused. “Thanks,” she says. She does as Carmilla tells her to do, and the dark-haired vamp pulls the covers up to Laura’s chest. She indulges herself. Her fingertips brush the hair off Laura’s brow. And when she smiles up at her, it is a sharp knife to Carmilla’s belly. Her smile falters and she withdraws her hand away.

 

“Good night, Laura.”

 

“G’night, Carm.”

 

It takes only a few moments for Laura’s eyelids to close. _‘She really must be tired,_ ’ Carmilla thinks. She touches the slope of Laura’s cheek but soon draws her hand away. She has no time for sentimentality, what with the doom of this sleeping girl and her friends are on the line. Carmilla roots through her closet and finds her duffel bag. She stuffs provisions inside it—the few blood packs she has stored in the fridge, a change of clothes, a book just in case.

 

Carmilla hikes up the bag over her shoulder but she hesitates. She glances at the lump on the bed. Laura, fast asleep. If she works fast, she can be back by the time she wakes up, and she will be none the wiser. Laura won’t know she has the sword, and she won’t push Carmilla to meddle with the sacrifice. Which means, Mother won’t harm a hair on Laura’s head.

 

Except, why _is_ she taking the sword if not to fuck up Mother’s plans for the sacrifice? Carmilla grits her teeth. Whatever. As long as Laura doesn’t know. This is for the best. This is to protect Laura.

 

She heads out into the sparkling night. One deep intake of breath and Carmilla is gone. A blur in the evening, leaving nothing behind her but a sleeping girl who has an unbearable power over her and she doesn’t even know it.

 

///

 

On a cliff by the sea, the air is salty. Carmilla towers over a flat plane of rock. The waves crashing against the rocks fills her head with its deafening noise. Overhead, seagulls. Cawing and circling over her, their wings casting shadows over the rocks. The light of the moon is pale white and eerie in its glow.

 

She ran for hours until she reached the coast where she knew the Blade of Hastur is hidden undersea, and it’s now three in the morning. Laura, still probably in the same state Carmilla left her. Asleep, tucked beneath blankets, hair fanning across her yellow pillow. The thought of peace settling over the girl for even a few hours settles Carmilla’s nerves somehow. _‘This is it,’_ she thinks, peering over the edge of the overhang. Foamy waves beckon to her, and she strips out of her pants but she keeps her long sleeved shirt. The cold air stings her skin but she feels none of it.

 

Now, to dive a thousand feet below sea level and not perish in the process. She rolls her shoulders, stretches her arms over her head. A knife holster is strapped to her thigh, just in case. Carmilla takes a deep breath. She doesn’t need to, but she does these human things anyway, to remind her what she once was.

 

She leaps. A perfect swan dive. She breaks through the water, and she kicks, eyes open. Coral reefs, fish startled to see her, a sea turtle passing her by. Carmilla swims, deeper and deeper. She sees in the dark, and she avoids the stalactites, the sharp stones. Deeper, she swims. Doesn’t think of anything else. Not about the future beyond retrieving the sword. Not seeing Laura again, sword in hand. Not a thought about seeing her smiling at her. None of that whatsoever.

 

Eventually, she stumbles upon an undersea cavern. Carmilla climbs up on a rocky edge, the stones smooth from the constant passing of water. She manages to stand and she takes furtive steps. Some rocks are sharp, all of them cold. From a distance, she hears the rush of salt water. A light from sea monsters. Eyes glinting like rubies, like emeralds. Carmilla keeps walking, water dripping off her body.

 

She keeps a hand against the cave wall until she enters a wide open area, a mound of rocks at its centre. The Cult of Hastur got really creative in burying the Blade, what with its hilt sticking out from the rocks. It doesn’t look threatening, but with its golden hilt and the legend behind the Blade, Carmilla hesitates.

 

The moss that creeps between her toes feels cold and wet. She holds on to a jutting hunk of rock so she won’t slip. A beam of light from an unknown source illuminates the underwater clearing. Around the mound of rock where she thought she saw the hilt of the Blade, a pile of bones. Carmilla nudges her toe against a skull and it skids down, rolls over the edge and falls into the bottom of the ocean. Respecting the bones of the dead seems so trivial with the end of the world at her fingertips.

 

She prepares to remove her shirt to help her handle the Blade but she blinks. The golden hilt she swears she saw is no longer there. In the fissure of rock is a waterlogged piece of parchment. Blood red ink smears its surface. An ancient language she understands.

 

Carmilla stumbles back and her knees give out. She sits on a mossy stone, grossness of the sensation be damned. In her trembling hands is a note from Mother. It reads:

 

_My dearest glittering girl,_

_I told you, didn’t I? It is no use for you to retrieve the Blade of Hastur. I am always ten steps ahead of you, darling, and today is no different. Actually, I was on my way to the underwater cavern where the Cult of Hastur buried this powerful weapon when your plaything is affected by my necklace. Have you taught her nothing? Did you not teach her not to wear suspicious-looking artifacts? Cleary she is too foolish for you, my sweet._

_The fact remains that you are here in this cavern. To retrieve the sword, perhaps? After I explicitly told you to stop meddling, you are still acting like a little rebel. I expected as much, of course. I know you so well._

_Nevertheless, the sword is in my possession now and there is nothing you can do. You cannot save anyone, darling. Not yourself, not that puny human girl, and especially not the world. Rest assured, I will always love you. After your recalcitrant stint, perhaps you will come home?_

_Love always,_

_Mother_  

 

Carmilla takes a deep breath. Still not a human, but this is a reassuring act. She stares at the clouded lines in Mother’s handwriting and feels nothing. Desolation, perhaps, but it’s as if it’s all she has been feeling lately that today is no different. She rises to her feet, paces along the clearing, kicking skulls and picking up femurs so smash against the rock walls of the cave.

 

She bends over a slippery rock, taking deep, lungfuls of air she does not need. Her body is trembling. She is shivering from the cold. There is nothing left for her to do. To return empty-handed to Laura is as bad as not doing anything, and Carmilla would loathe to disappoint her even more.

 

///

 

Carmilla sits on the edge of her bed, close to Laura as she performs another soliloquy before the camera. The entire time, the construction outside their dorm room is underway. Staring into the deep purple grape soda she’s drinking, Carmilla wracks her brain for any clue on where Mother hid the Blade of Hastur. Somewhere in her office, probably, but where? Carmilla doubts that it’ll be in plain sight.

 

Behind her, the uptight redhead is whittling stakes like it’s going to help their cause. Carmilla struggles the urge scoff. On Laura’s bed (monopolizing the yellow pillow, mind you) is the other redhead. They are hogtied, doing a little dance despite their restraints. The constant hammering is driving Carmilla insane. Worn out from her journey from the sea, all she wants is peace and quiet, alone time with Laura, and to think about where the Blade could be.

 

“...you’re gonna go out and grab that soon, yeah?”

 

Carmilla looks up. “Soon.”

 

“Good,” Laura sags in relief, and Carmilla bites the inside of her lip. “I will feel a lot better when we are all together and heavily armed.” The urgency in Laura’s voice is evident. And she’s right. She does need to find the Blade of Hastur soon. The grape soda in the aluminum can swirls. Carmilla stares at it.

 

In her reverie, something snaps when she hears Laura hiss and flinch in pain.  “A-are you alright?” Carmilla asks. She resists crushing the can in her grasp when Laura is rubbing her temples from pain.

 

“I... yeah. That necklace did a number on me. I feel like I had a whole other brain is crammed into my skull.”

 

“That,” Carmilla hesitates. Thinks better about telling the truth. “That’ll pass.”

 

“Ugh. And _that_ is not helping either. But I think it’s also this ‘sit tight’ plan. I mean, what if the vamps take two more tonight and make with the sacrifice anyway?”

 

“Laura,” Carmilla begins, almost pleading. “This plan keeps _you_ safe. It keeps your friends here safe,” she adds as an afterthought. “That’s all we can do.”

 

But then Laura does this thing with her nose. She tilts her head. Narrows her eyes. Any other time, it would’ve been adorable, but Carmilla fears for this girl’s life, more than anything else. “Laura...”

 

A million things start flying out of Laura’s mouth but Carmilla barely understands a word. Here she is, trying her hardest to keep Laura safe, but in her restlessness, she finds a loophole in a deal she doesn’t even know the specifics of. If it were any other moment, Carmilla would be impressed and more or less supportive, but _no,_ not today.

 

“I will go get the troops rallied, and you go get that sword, okay? Your mom and her loopy demon light thingy aren’t even gonna know what hit ‘em!”

 

Carmilla glances at Laura and she feels lips on her cheek. Mere inches away from her mouth. The warmth from Laura’s lips blossom throughout her face and she knows not what to do. Laura is gone before she can stop her, so she stares at her hands instead. Great, now she is bound by a kiss. Not really, but Carmilla is not beyond doing everything for Laura. She stares at her pale hands. Her hands, so worn but still so pristine. Used to breaking necks and bashing in skulls. Used to caressing girls that mean nothing to her.

 

“Don’t you have a sword to go get?” Perry reminds her. There’s a furrow in her brow and Carmilla ducks her head.

 

“Right,” she sighs and drains the rest of her (Laura’s) grape soda. She scrunches up the metal like it is paper and throws it in the recycling bin. The back of her hand meets her mouth and she leaves the dorm room. Down the steps, Carmilla walks slowly. In her search for the sword, the Dean’s office is a good place as any to start looking.

 

///

 

The Dean’s Office, located in the center of the campus. A place where students have every reason to be milling around, which makes sense since Mother is the Dean of _Students_. Still, the surrounding area is void of lurking students and it gives Carmilla an ounce of privacy. She doesn’t see any of the Zeta bros, none of the Summer Society psychos, and none of Laura. If she sees her skulking near the Dean’s Office she might think that betrayal is afoot, and Carmilla doesn’t need that misunderstanding right now.

 

Carmilla takes slow steps as precaution. The marble floors echo every step, alerting every vampire thrall in the building. Luckily, the soles of her boots are soft. She stalks the length of the corridor and stops before the grandiose double oak doors. She takes a deep breath.

 

She hasn’t been here since that month, when Mother assigned her as her roommate. Laura Hollis, a pesky journalism major who’s out to ruin Mother’s plans. Of course, Carmilla thought Mother was only being paranoid, but no. Mother is _never_ paranoid, only calculating. Always ten steps ahead of the game.

 

The doors open without a noise. Carmilla steps inside the cavernous room and takes in the emptiness of it. Sure, there is an office desk. There are overstuffed arm chairs. There are bookshelves. There is a fireplace. But there are no vampire thugs. No Mother in sight.

 

The Blade of Hastur is nowhere to be found either. Carmilla paces the room and stops before the painting of herself, with Mother. She looks so young, so happy. Innocent and naive. Carmilla scowls and longs to gouge out the face of her young self.

 

But Carmilla tenses. She looks at Mother’s features. Instead of the painting staring directly at her, painting Mother is staring off to the distance. Carmilla finds the trajectory of her line of sight, and it is aimed to the bookshelf by the fireplace. Approaching the crackling fire, Carmilla slides her arm up the chimney. It’s hot, and vampires are weak to fire, but she grits her teeth. Ignores the sensation of her arm melting while she gropes around the chimney but there is nothing there. Why did she think the sword would be there in the first place?

 

“Ah, fuck.” Carmilla pulls her arm out of the fireplace and shakes the searing pain away. Looking around the neat and organized office, there is no sign of the Blade. Is it even really in Mother’s office? It _has_ to be; where else would she store a weapon that powerful when Mother herself cannot wield it due to the consumption clause placed upon it?

 

The sound of heels on marble is strong, loud, and resounding in her ears. Carmilla freezes. There is nowhere to hide.

 

“Well, well.” Mother, tall and stern with a look of amusement playing in her steely eyes, walks into her office. “This is certainly unexpected.”

 

She avoids Mother’s gaze but she knows she is smiling down at her. No words pass through her mind. She has nothing to say to Mother even as she approaches Carmilla, circling her like a vulture. “Do you not recall what I said about meddling?”

 

“I’m not Laura, Mother.” Carmilla spits out.

 

“I can _see_ that, darling. Which is why I said this was unexpected. Did she put you up to this?” Mother frowns, her cold, slender fingers brushing the nape of Carmilla’s neck. She resists the urge to shiver.

 

“Your bargain doesn’t apply. You said only Laura can’t meddle. You said nothing about _my_ meddling.”

 

Mother looks at her for a moment. That stern gaze is cold and unnerving. “I see.” She approaches her desk and she sits on the executive chair. Leaning back, fingers steepled together. She motions to an overstuffed lounger. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

 

The power of suggestion is strong in Mother’s voice, and Carmilla has no choice but to obey. She sits. Knees together. Hands clutched tight. Still avoiding Mother’s disapproving yet tender look. “I assume there is something you want, otherwise you would not be here.” Mother eyes Carmilla as she speaks. When she is met with silence, she sighs.

 

“I know I haven’t been the Mother you’ve always wanted these past few centuries,” she murmurs. “You are my darling, my most precious girl, and I know you resent me for what I’ve done.” Piercing grey eyes meet Carmilla’s. Apologetic yet indignant. “But I’ll say this a million times—everything I do, I do out of love. For what I know is best for you.”

 

“You see, I realize my mistake now. I should not have taken that cockroach girl,” she says this with a serene light in her features but Carmilla knows better. “But I did; there is no refuting that that was wrong. So I fixed my misdeeds. I took the friend of your friend,” _LaFontaine_ “and now,” Mother smiles. Fangs bared. Bone white and deadly. “I made a deal that if your pet does not meddle, I will not touch a hair on her head.”

 

“And that’s still in place. I’m not Laura. She didn’t put me up to any of this.”

 

Mother puts up a hand and Carmilla is silenced. “I accept that. So,” she leans forward. It unnerves Carmilla that she is genuinely interested in making deals instead of ripping her throat out right then and there. Mother must really love her. “A new deal, then.” Silence surrounds them while they both think. Behind them, the fire crackles while Carmilla struggles to get a read on Mother.

 

“How about this?” Mother pierces the silence with a smile and an offer. “I will bend the rules for you, sweetheart. I will turn your precious pet into a thrall and you can keep her forever. I will make her loyal to you and only you, so long as neitherof you do not meddle any longer.”

 

Carmilla stiffens at the offer, like cement is poured all over her. Mother’s lips curl in a way that makes Carmilla fear for her life. “I’m a reasonable woman. I know this is a big decision. You can think on it for a few days.” A pause. “You may go.”

 

And what other choice does Carmilla have? She stands to her feet, and with a heavy weight looming on her shoulders, she leaves Mother’s office, passing by Will on the way. He makes a jab, taunts her, but she hears nothing of it. Her mind reels from the offer. Laura. With her for the rest of her lengthy time walking this earth. Laura by her side. She clenches her fists and longs to destroy something.

 

Instead, she heads back to the dorm rooms. Up the steps, she reaches the third floor and she stiffens on the small corridor. There is silence. Nothing can be heard from their room—no chatter of Laura talking to herself in front of her webcam. Not a sound from the two redheads either. She barges in the room and finds Laura, head in her hands, muttering to herself. She doesn’t even react upon Carmilla’s entrance, so the vampire closes the door and approaches the girl. She sits on the foot of her bed and crosses her legs. “Everything alright? Is your head still hurting?”

 

Turning in her computer chair with a heavy groan, Laura slumps her head on Carmilla’s lap. “I’m worried sick. My stomach feels cramped and it feels like there are falcons in there, like I’m going to puke at any moment—” she cuts herself off and sighs. Carmilla feels the warmth of her skin, her breath, her face mushed against her belly. Amused more than anything else, Carmilla rubs Laura’s upper back and pulls her up to her feet. She guides her to the left side of the room to where Laura’s bed is but the girl looks up at her. A pleading light in her hazel eyes.

 

Carmilla sighs and looks away. Sits on her own bed and holds Laura’s hand. “You better not tell anyone about this,” she murmurs, pulling back the dark blanket. She climbs in and pulls Laura in with her.

 

In all her days, weeks, and months of staying in this dorm room, she has never crept in between the sheets. Her body is always unhindered, since vampires don’t feel cold anyway, and without a blanket on top of her, it makes it easier to move. To get away. But now, Carmilla doesn’t want to be anywhere else but _here_.

 

Laura smiles and her head, cradled by Carmilla’s shoulder, burrows against her neck. Hand thrown casually over her stomach. Legs interweaving with hers. Torn-apart jeans and plaid PJs. Carmilla feels the minuscule movements of Laura’s body. Her biology so alive against her still, dead one. How could Mother ever think that she would want a lifeless, obedient thrall in place of the Laura she has, breathing against her neck and nuzzling her? How could she ever trade this for _anything_?

 

“This is nice,” the girl says, her voice a low murmur. Carmilla, arm around Laura’s shoulders, hums in agreement. “It almost makes me want to forget everything else.”

 

“That would be ideal, but I know better. I know that won’t happen.” The vampire draws gentle spirals on Laura’s back, eyes closing for a moment. The softness of this living girl makes her want to fall asleep. Despite the pressing issue of Mother. Of finding the sword. Of the imminent doom approaching. Of saving Laura’s friends. “Don’t you ever get tired? Don’t you ever want to be selfish, for once?”

 

Laura doesn’t respond after a beat. “Forget I asked.” Carmilla mutters.

 

“No, I was just thinking about that,” Laura shifts, her chin now resting on Carmilla’s chest. “You’re right. It would be easier to be selfish, but my _friends_ are in danger.”

 

“And _you’re_ in danger.”

 

Carmilla watches Laura scrunch up her nose. “I forget that sometimes, you know. Because I know you have my back no matter what. You don’t even have to help me, but you are.”

 

“Of course I’m helping you. But I said this before: don’t expect any more heroic crap from me. I’m doing this for my own selfish reasons.” Carmilla rubs Laura’s back again and she shifts closer in her arms. “And before you ask or say anything idiotic, yes, _you_ are my selfish reason.”

 

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Laura murmurs.

 

“Yes you were. You can’t help it; it’s in your nature. I don’t mean it as a bad thing, cutie.”

 

“Thanks,” Laura looks at Carmilla and she looks right back. Everything else holds true: there is no way in heaven or in hell that Carmilla would trade Laura’s humanity, her hopefulness, her light, for anything. Though, Carmilla thinks, she can probably ask Laura if she wants to be turned and she’ll say no. No, because that is just how she is, and Carmilla accepts that; no questions asked.

 

The younger girl rests her cheek on top of Carmilla’s chest and they stay there for the better part of the day. She thinks about kissing Laura but resists it. There is plenty of time for that in the future.

 

///

 

After half a day finding a way to enter Mother's office, only to be barred by the presence of Will and a handful of other vampires, Carmilla returns to the dorm hall, exhausted. They've been alerted by Mother, she supposes, to guard the hallways and the room itself, lest Carmilla attempts to steal inside again in search for the Blade of Hastur. 

 

She trudges up the rickety stairs, feet heavy, head aching. She's been up to the ears with worry the past few days, needing the sword, what with the night of the sacrifice coming up. Carmilla needs to lie down and be soothed by Laura's radiant presence, have a drink of blood, and she'll be good as new.

 

In the distant subspace of her mind, Carmilla imagines Laura doing everything she asks. Being there for her to ease her aches, her pains, her worries. Doing as Carmilla asks _for once_. Mother’s offer to make Laura a thrall is still an idea that she’s playing with, even though she knows that she shouldn’t. Carmilla hates herself for it. It makes her feel dirty, abusing the thought of Laura in that way.

 

Carmilla pushes the creaky door open but is met with Perry, brandishing a stake. “Not one more step, bloodsucker!”

 

“What is this?” Carmilla demands, her eyes on Laura, who shifts and avoids meeting her own. With an indignant flourish, Laura slams at her keyboard, and if Carmilla was a living, breathing, human being, her blood would’ve turned to ice. The footage of Mother in Laura’s body. Carmilla’s arms fall limp against her sides. She cannot bear to look at Laura—the fury, the eyes that plead Carmilla to tell her that _all of this isn’t true_. So she stares at the screen instead.

 

Laura fast forwards to Carmilla accepting Mother’s offer. _“Deal,”_ her recorded voice says. It sounds warped and weak and worn. A recording of her drowning. Cutting off the recording, Laura turns and faces Carmilla.

 

“Were you even gonna tell me? About JP? About Kirsch? About the fact she _possessed_ me and used me to hurt my friends or was it just gonna be, ‘sorry, babe; no sword, no rescue. That’s just the way the world is’?”

 

“Laura, that’s not—”

 

But Perry aims the wooden stake at Carmilla. “I won’t let you take her!”

 

She’s not threatened, not by a long shot, by this human whose hand is trembling. Perry’s eyes have a fierce desperation in them that prevents Carmilla from taking a step closer to Laura. “Laura, she promised to leave us alone!”

 

“Yeah, just as long as you let her kill my friends. You know, it’s not the sword. The sword will kill you and I get that. It’s that you just gave up. After everything, you didn’t even try.”

 

Carmilla stares at the floor. There it is—that disappointment. She knows she’s weak, but Laura just doesn’t understand. She knows nothing about Mother’s strength and capabilities. She doesn’t know the power Mother wields across continents, across time, across species, and Carmilla cannot even begin to explain such things for fear of Laura thinking that she is just _so_ like her Mother—heartless, selfish, and manipulative.

 

“Laura, that’s not what—”

 

“Go away, Carmilla. Go run and hide.” Laura says and it’s like swallowing glass. It’s like being trapped in a tomb of blood. It’s like sinking. It’s like being dead; but what does Carmilla know of that? “We’re done.”

 

A car crash sound that rings with finality. Like the silence after a gunshot. Only when you look down and see the blood do you hear the rush of life ebbing and dissipating into a puddle around you. She didn’t even know they were beginning in the first place. Helpless, Carmilla looks at the back of Laura’s head. She glances at Perry when she shoots her a challenging glare. Carmilla wants to yell that this her home now too, but how can it be home when the fire of the hearth is sputtering, turning cold, with her back towards you? Carmilla looks at Laura. She leaves.

 

///

 

Two in the morning. Silas University. Laura lies awake, staring at the ceiling, the abstract patterns of the paint streaks. Around her, there is nothing but darkness. No orange flickering across the cream coloured walls from candlelight. No soft pattering of feet. Laura turns to lie on her side and she stares at Carmilla’s empty, unmade bed.

 

The door is locked in case anyone decides to burst in and see her miserable, even if it is the dead of night. Sure, if Carmilla returns she can just kick the door down like it’s made out of paper, but Laura is so sure that Carmilla will never return, and that this is all she can do: curl into a ball, staring at Carmilla’s bed. Surround herself with the emptiness, a Carmilla-shaped nothingness inside her.

 

Laura eventually sits up and crawls out of her bed. She heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her movements are sluggish. The pounding inside her brain is twice as painful knowing that The Dean invaded her, witnessed the parts of her that no one should be able to experience. She shivers at the thought. Dirty. This is what she feels. No amount of showers can ever cleanse her of The Dean’s violation of her body.

 

And Carmilla’s duplicity. That hurts more than anything else. Here is Laura believing all the good things that Carmilla ever spat out. But her reassurances were empty. Carmilla is still a vampire. Still the amoral character that will make you fall in love with her only to ruin the trust and the love Laura thinks is possible in this dark, dreary world.

 

Even after all this, Laura can’t bring herself to say she _hates_ Carmilla. She’s furious, sure. Annoyed. Betrayed. But to say she hates Carmilla is to go too far to say something with no ounce of truth in it.

 

The mirror reflects a disheveled girl with hair that clings to her cheek. Red-rimmed eyes. A puffy nose. Puffy lips from biting down in an attempt to muffle her cries. Cold water splashes her skin. She repeats until she resembles herself. Until she convinces herself that _everything is going to be fine_.

 

///

 

Give Carmilla _one_ good reason not to accept Mother’s offer to turn Laura into a loyal and obedient thrall. Just _one_ would be spectacular, but you have to hurry before she reaches the office of the Dean of Students, footsteps fueled with fire and fury. She stops in her tracks, the frigid night air on her bare legs and arms. Turns her back against the direction of the offices and heads the other way.

 

In Carmilla’s utopian world, to have Laura by her side is ideal. This is what she wants, but what Mother is offering is different. There is a death involved when one is made into a vampiric thrall, and whenever Carmilla closes her eyes, her senses hone in on Laura. The vibrancy whenever they touch is an electric shock. The warmth, inevitable in her thawing.

 

She curses herself for her pathetic thoughts. Finding a park bench, Carmilla sinks down on it, ignoring the coldness of the wood on the backs of her thighs. Overhead, the leaves of oak trees rustle with the wind. Dried leaves flutter and skid across the flagstones. The smell of imminent rain rises from the ground.

 

Carmilla wants Laura. There is no denying that. And Mother’s offer to turn her would provide her with what she wants. Laura with super strength. Laura with reflexes that can rival lightning. Laura immortal. Carmilla no longer worrying about losing Laura.

 

She flinches at the selfishness of her thoughts. In her time with Laura, not much has changed, sure. Nothing other than her desperation to keep this young human girl alive and well, others be damned. Carmilla stands up again to walk the curved path until it leads her back to her original destination.

 

The hallways are empty when she enters the staff building. There is a weight on her shoulders that gets heavier and heavier with each loaded step towards the double doors of Mother’s Office. Her decision, Carmilla concludes, should not be about herself, not for what she is out to gain. She just wants Laura safe. She wants what Laura wants.

 

The doors open without a single noise, and Carmilla walks inside. Will is there with a group of other vampires whose heads turn upon Carmilla’s entry. They cease all chatter and Will rises to his feet.

 

“Well, well. Definitely didn’t expect to see you here tonight, kitty.”

 

“Sure,” she says, boredom reeking from her tone. “Where’s Mother?”

 

“I don’t think you get to just barge in here after your betrayal and ask to see Mother,” says Will, arms crossed across his chest. “Besides, she’s not here right now.”

 

“Let her in, William.” Mother’s steady voice pierces through the room, and the lesser vamps all turn to the desk where Mother sits. She is on her office chair that might as well be a throne, drinking tea. “Carmilla is here for a specific reason, and I’ve been expecting her.” Silver spoon swirls the amber liquid in her dainty china cup. “And allow us some privacy.”

 

Carmilla resists shooting Will a sneer as he obeys Mother’s wishes. “Watch yourself, sugar puss,” he hisses, as he and his vamp friends leave her and Mother alone.

 

“I wish you two would just get along. He _is_ your brother, after all.”

 

She approaches Mother and sits. The entire time, Mother’s iron eyes are on her, softening when Carmilla places her hands on her lap and meets her gaze head on. “I assume you’re here because you’ve arrived at a conclusion, darling?”

 

Her fingers lacing together, Carmilla nods her head. “I have.”

 

“And so?” Mother leans back, teacup held between two fingers.

 

“I don’t want it,” Carmilla says softly, but filled with her resolve. This decision is not for herself, she chants in her head. Carmilla just wants Laura’s safety, but not in Mother’s terms. She wants what _Laura_ wants, and she knows for a fact that vampirism is not it. “I don’t want you to turn Laura into a thrall.” Her fists clench; she tenses. “I don’t want a lot of things I can’t put into words but this is one thing that I can.” Black eyes on steel, Carmilla doesn’t falter. “I don’t want you to touch a hair on Laura’s head and if it means fighting you, then I’ll do it.”

 

For a long moment, Mother is silent. And then, a soft, frustrated whisper. “ _Why?_ I was offering you all you ever wanted, sweetheart! A girl who will remain loyal and obedient to your every whim and fancy. A girl who will do as you wish. A girl who is as devoted to you as you are to her! If you wanted her to flirt with you, just say so, and she will do just that. You want her to be the Laura that you knew, then you shall have it!” Mother’s voice increases in volume, turning shrill. “I am offering you this perfect thing! A creature that is timeless as _you_ are timeless!”

 

“And that’s it, isn’t it?” Carmilla remains calm, keeping her gaze level with Mother’s. “You’re offering me a _creature—_ a wretched machine—not the girl I’m in love with.”

 

“But what makes it any different, this illusion?” Mother demands. “I’m still offering to give you the one thing you want—the _thing_ that is causing you to rebel against me like this!”

 

Her grip on her knees loosen and with upturned palms, Carmilla smiles. “I don’t want your _thing_. I want Laura.”

 

Above Mother’s head, she hears a high-pitched sound of steel gliding against steel.

 

The Blade of Hastur has been on display this entire time.

 

Mother bares her teeth, but she stops and her shoulders relax. She drinks her tea. Places it on a saucer and dabs at the corner of her mouth. “You know I only want what’s best for you,” she says, the pads of her fingers pressing together, “and I don’t think that weak and powerless human is it.”

 

Carmilla cannot help but laugh. “Did you really think feeding Ell to that monster of yours is what was best for me?”

 

“That was a mistake, as I’ve said before. And I’ve said this a hundred times, but I will do so again and again for as long as it takes to get through to your pretty little head. Stone cannot love flesh, and flesh cannot learn to love stone.”

 

The fact that she was able to maintain a neutral expression despite the truth in Mother’s words makes Carmilla feel just a degree stronger. “That might be true, for all I know. But even if I accepted your offer, the Laura I know will hate me from the depths of hell and back,” Carmilla resists a wry smile, “and I don’t want her to hate me more than she already does.”

 

“Sweetheart, please…” There is an urgency in Mother’s tone that Carmilla has never heard before. “Can’t you reconsider? Humans are so fleeting, but we are not. This affection of yours for this… _girl_ ,” she spits out the word like it is bitter and poison on her tongue, “is nothing more than a fleeting fancy.”

 

Carmilla laughs again—harsher, this time—and shakes her head. “No, she’s really not. That’s what you said about Ell too, and I spent two hundred years yearning for her, hating you for what you did to her.” For a vampire, it’s true that Carmilla is emotional. That no matter how hard she tries to be tough as iron and impermeable as stone, something inside her always finds the light.

 

And with Laura, everything is brighter. A stark clarity. Love, love, and more love streaming out everywhere.

 

“I see,” Mother sighs and closes her eyes. “I trust you understand what this means? I can harm her now. All bets are off, darling.” She flashes Carmilla a threatening grin. Sharp teeth. A bloodthirsty glint in her steel eyes. “She is mine for the taking.”

 

Carmilla looks back at Mother. Straightens her shoulders and fights a triumphant smile. She knows where the Blade of Hastur is. Mother keeps the Blade in plain sight because she _can’t_ use it herself. Maybe it’s bait, but whatever. She’ll take later, as soon as she has the chance. Carmilla says nothing as she darts out of Mother’s office to head back to the dorm, Laura’s safety in the forefront of her mind.

 

///

 

But when she returns, kicking down the door out of impatience more than anything else, the room is empty. Carmilla’s immobile heart leaps to her throat. She checks the hallway, the bathroom—hell, she even checks under the beds for any sign of Laura, only to find her nowhere.

 

“God damn it!” Carmilla curses, kicking the mattress of her bed. She hears the underside of the bed break from the force of her frustration but she barely gives the bed a second glance. Worse comes to worst, she’ll sleep on the floor again.

 

A blinking light catches her attention. Carmilla wheels Laura’s computer chair and she clicks around, the monitor coming to life. The video player fills the screen. Carmilla takes a deep breath; she clicks play.

 

_“…and Carmilla, if you’re watching this, then… you know!”_

 

Any other time, Carmilla would be cackling with delight. Any other moment, she would be over the moon ecstatic. She thinks back to what Mother said, about Laura not loving her back. Carmilla wants to scorn her, wants to shout to the rooftops that Mother is wrong. Laura cannot learn to love her, because she already knows the best way how.

 

But there is no time for this. She cradles her face in her hands and glares at the computer screen, like it is at fault for Laura being gone.

 

“God damn it…” Carmilla growls again. “Of all the imbecilic, idiot suicidal—you just had to go and get yourself eaten.” She snarls at the camera attached to the top of Laura’s monitor. “Oh god,” she closes her eyes and pushes the terrible thoughts away, “you’re somewhere getting eaten.”

 

The door creaks open, and in steps the tall ginger, almost as pissed as Carmilla. “Where the hell is Laura because this isn’t funny.” She scowls at Carmilla.

 

“What?”

 

“I just got a text: trapped in basement of old chapel come quick bring stakes.”

 

Carmilla blinks. “The Dudley Chapel,” she says in a rush. “The Lustig Building! They’re under the Lustig Building!” She bolts to her feet. Her body is thrumming. She _needs_ to go there right now.

 

“You’re being serious? This isn’t a joke?”

 

After telling Danny what to do, Carmilla walks around her. Unable to keep still, her mind sprinting a mile a minute for some sort of plan that will ultimately get Laura back to safety.

 

“And where are you going?” Danny demands.

 

Carmilla looks at the computer and swallows hard. The sword is the answer, consumption be damned. She has reached the point where she can’t even begin to care what happens to her. “To do something really stupid.” She looks at Danny and for a moment, this ginger giant doesn’t appear as annoying as she did weeks before. “See you at the violence.”

 

Out the building, Carmilla is a blur as she sprints to the Dean’s office. It’s empty, but the Blade of Hastur is still on a frame on the wall behind Mother’s desk. Carmilla wastes no time. She takes it by the hilt, sending the frame crashing to the floor. The blade glows a faint yellow and it is humming.

 

With her strength, the Blade of Hastur weighs like nothing. Carmilla heads out of Mother’s office, not wanting to waste any time in case Laura was getting attacked the entire time she is dicking around. Through the door she goes, and it barely registers in her head that Will is making his way towards her.

 

“Looks like Mother was right. You _are_ going to take the sword.” He eyes Carmilla’s hand on the sword, keeping his distance. “Don’t you remember that it’s supposed to consume you or are you really going to let that happen to defend your stupid little roomie—?”

 

Carmilla pulls her arm back and punches Will in the nose. “I really don’t have time for you right now,” she grits out as Will flies to the other end of the hallway, his back hitting the corner. The dull, satisfying sound of a body falling to the ground. Carmilla doesn’t even spare him another glance, and she is out the door, booking it to the Lustig.

 

By the time she makes it down the stairs to the abandoned underground theatre, the Summer Society and the Zetas, commanded by Danny, had most of the weaker vamps subdued. Piles of ash. Forlorn faces. The thought of murdering someone you used to think is just a really pale classmate.

 

Carmilla scans the destroyed theatre. Amidst the rubble and broken seats, she sees Laura, Perry, and LaFontaine, seemingly unscathed. A growl, Carmilla is sprinting across the theatre, her fist colliding with the vampires’ faces. She grips the throat of one, and kicks the other towards the crater where the demon light is shining.

 

“Carmilla!!” Laura shrieks, and Carmilla throws the other vampire into the light as well. “Y-you came!”

 

“Of course I did,” she’s still carrying the sword, but she doesn’t want to use it, not yet. “Did you really think I would _really_ do as you told me to do? That I’m going to run and hide?” She smirks and lifts up the sword, Laura smiling at her. This genuine brightness, this cloudless sky. “Get to safety. _Please_. Look, your TA is over there,” Carmilla jerks her thumb, and sure enough, Danny is there. A beacon of guiding fire.

 

“We need to put a stop to the sacrifice,” Laura says. “If we don’t, the others—”

 

“I see you have the sword,” Mother’s voice pierces through the shouting and the fighting of humans against vampires—humans vastly outnumbering the vamps. “It’s about time. But it’s going to _consume_ you if you use it, darling. Drop it, _now_.”

 

Carmilla puts herself between Laura and Mother, not wanting to risk anything. “If that happens, whatever. But I’m taking you down with me.”

 

“Carm, no!”

 

She smiles a little and looks back at Laura over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, cupcake.”

 

Kicking off the ground, sword raised, Carmilla slashes at Mother. She sidesteps every blow, the Blade of Hastur singing as it slices through air. Carmilla grits her teeth, chasing after Mother. _‘Just one hit, just one hit…’_ Carmilla chants to herself. _‘Just one hit and the Blade will do the rest!’_

 

“You’re too aggressive,” Mother sings. “I can see every move you intent to make. Widen your stance!” She narrowly avoids an undercut, not a motion wasted. “Have I taught you absolutely nothing?” Mother aims the point of her sword at Carmilla. “Bend those knees for goodness’ sake!”

 

Taking a deep, frustrated breath, Carmilla accepts Mother’s suggestions. There’s no point not doing so—Mother _is_ a master swordswoman, taught by Julie d’Aubigny at some point in her long life. Carmilla tightens her grip on the sword’s hilt and lunges for Mother once more.

 

A flurry of slashes, all of which Mother avoids.

 

“My darling, you are too hotheaded,” Mother smiles, the back of her left hand resting on the small of her back. She holds the broadsword like it’s a fencing foil. “How can I possibly think that you can take care of yourself if you can’t even take care of me?”

 

Preparing to lunge for Mother again, Carmilla raises the sword, but off to the distance, the corner of her eye catches Laura, waving her arms furiously. Blood drips down her cheek, looking disheveled.

 

“Over here, you evil vampire mother overlord!! Back off Carmilla! _Over here!_ ”

 

With an amused look, Mother looks at Laura, and then back at Carmilla who avoids her gaze. “Isn’t that _cute_?”

 

“God damn it, Laura. Stop embarrassing me in front of my mother!”

 

“I was just trying to help, you stubborn vampire! You don’t have to do everything yourself!”

 

“I swore I told you to get out of here!”

 

Mother vanishes in front of Carmilla. Appears beside her. The flat of her blade hits Carmilla’s solar plexus and she winces before skidding a good distance away from Mother. She doubles over, Laura’s concerned cries ringing in her head. Carmilla picks herself up again but Mother towers over her and slashes at Carmilla’s shoulder.

 

Pain sears through her flesh but Carmilla heaves herself up and puts distance between her and Mother. She soon heals, but she is shaken up. Laura is still in the underground theatre, refusing to leave, along with the rest of the dimwit squad.

 

“What are you waiting for, dear?” Mother asks while she approaches Carmilla. She lowers her stance and holds still, eyes never leaving Mother. “I thought you were going to finish me off? I thought you’re going to be the hero and save the entire school?”

 

“I’m not a damn hero,” Carmilla insists.

 

“You don’t really understand, do you? Why I do the things I do?” Mother raises her sword arm, and so does Carmilla. “This ritual is more than just to feed the light where we worship. This is to appease it. Because,” in a flash she is slashing at Carmilla, and Carmilla is fighting back. Mother, always narrowly avoiding the Blade, makes Carmilla stagger in every direction without the recoil of steel on steel. “If I don’t sacrifice six people every twenty years, the light will consume us all.”

 

Mother continues avoiding her blows, her eyes on the blade. Wary of where Carmilla strikes. Carmilla stops for a moment to rethink her strategy. She knows that one blow will be enough to end Mother. The Blade of Hastur will crush anyone who oppose it, after all. So, there’s no need for her to rush. One blow. That’s all it will take.

 

“Do you understand? I am not sacrificing students because I am bored. I’m doing it for the rest of the student population. To save them. To prevent more carnage by sacrificing six students instead.”

 

Shaking her head, Carmilla starts attacking Mother again. “Then why not just kill the light? You had the sword; why go through all this trouble?”

 

“The light is powerful in and of itself. It prevents outsiders from threatening the school. I’m sure you remember the enemies I’ve made throughout the years.” She smiles, sharp fangs like ivory, white and bared. “What are you waiting for, sweetheart? I thought you are here to kill me?”

 

Carmilla attacks Mother. Every swing of the Blade hits the space where Mother was half a second before it slices through the air. But Carmilla is restless. Intent on that one hit, the single strike that is bound to end all of this. She stands still, sword arm out. When Mother charges into her again, she parries a blow. The sword is cut in half. Changing her stance so she is balanced, Carmilla slashes through Mother.

 

No time for goodbyes. Only a shocked light of realization in Mother’s eyes before she collapses on a heap on the ground, amidst piles of stucco and charred cushions.

 

Carmilla avoids looking at the pile of ash Mother left behind in favour of searching for Laura, who is safe. “The light,” she calls out. “We need to kill the light.”

 

“Okay, but how? It’s all the way down there, and how does one even begin to attempt to kill a _demon light_?” Laura asks. Carmilla looks at her for a full ten seconds with a hint of a smile on her lips. “W-what, do I have something on my face?”

 

“Just a little blood,” Carmilla croaks. She’s just so fucking tired. The bright light is trembling, and it’s starting to suck in the debris into its center. “Oh shit, that’s seriously happening right now. You need to get out of here.” Carmilla tells Laura. “I’ll deal with the rest.”

 

“You can’t seriously think I’m going to leave this place without you,” Laura grips Carmilla’s arm. “You’re crazy. That’s not going to happen. You can’t make me leave you here alone. I’m not leaving this stupid underground theatre without you.”

 

“Oh yeah? I can’t?” Carmilla turns to Danny, who nods. She picks up Laura in a fireman carry, despite the yelling and the kicking. “Laura!” Carmilla calls out. The human girl for whom she is willing to risk anything and everything stills, tears in her eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I _will_ come back from the dead for you.”

 

Carmilla relishes Laura’s stunned eyes. Shoulders drawn back and with a swagger, she leaps into the crater. The Blade of Hastur pierces the heart of the light. And then, darkness.

 

Suddenly, only darkness.

 

///

 

Carmilla winces when she opens the door to her dorm room and it creaks like she just stepped on a cat’s tail. It’s been two days since the battle, a day since she last saw Laura. Against the doorway, she can see the lump of her body. She smiles in soft relief.  The girl’s presence is euphoric in its own. Staggering inside the room, Carmilla heads straight to the fridge for a drink. More than anything else, she needs a shower.

 

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” Laura’s low, sleepy voice rises from a mess of blankets and pillows. She sits up, hair curtaining her face. Eyes half closed, she rubs at them and stares at Carmilla. “I’m not imagining this? You’re really here?”

 

“Sure am,” Carmilla sits on her bed and chugs the blood down in greedy gulps. “I told you, cupcake. I told you I will come back from the dead for you.”

 

By then, Laura is alert and awake. She slides out of bed. Fists on her hips. An attempt to look threatening, except she’s in her plaid PJs and a sweater with moose on it. Not at all scary. “I thought you were dead!! All I saw was you leaping into the demon light thingy and then nothing else! I thought you were gone for good, you stupid vampire!”

 

Carmilla places the glass on the shelf of her bed. Arms behind her, she leans back. Eyes raking up and down Laura’s form. A smile plays at Carmilla’s lips while Laura glares at her with her bunched up face and crinkled nose. “I was out of the crater that same night.”

 

“A-and you didn’t come straight home? Do you have no idea how worried I was?”

 

“I…” Carmilla stares at her hands. “I had to bury Mother.”

 

The look in Laura’s eyes soften. “Oh.”

 

Still staring at her hands—the same hands that killed her Mother—Carmilla eventually looks up and reaches for Laura. Pulls her to stand between her legs to bury her face against Laura’s stomach. Carmilla takes deep, shuddering breaths. Her arms around Laura’s waist. It feels appropriate to cry after everything that ever happed, after reuniting with the girl you think you lost forever, but Carmilla isn’t really one for propriety.

 

Laura wraps her arms around Carmilla’s neck. Fingers in her hair. Pads of her fingers stroking her scalp. Carmilla tilts her head back to look at Laura’s face. She’s crying and her tears fall on Carmilla’s cheek like summer rain. Cupping her cheek, Carmilla drags her thumb against the wet track of tears. She kicks off her shoes and guides Laura back to her bed, Carmilla climbing in with her. Blanket over their bodies.

 

“I thought I lost you,” Laura murmurs, her face against the hollow of Carmilla’s neck. “I thought I’d be alone. I thought I would never get to say everything I ever wanted. I thought I would have to live without you. I thought—”

 

“Stop thinking all the wrong things, cutie.” Carmilla presses her lips against Laura’s forehead. It’s like kissing the sun and breathing in the clouds. “But it’s going to take more than my Mother and a demonic light that came from the pits of hell to keep me away from you.”

 

Carmilla feels Laura smile against her neck and she tightens her arms around her. Slowly so as not to startle Laura, Carmilla slides her palm along her hip. Fingertips slip up her shirt to stroke the skin on the small of Laura’s back. The only reaction she receives is a soft sigh and Laura nuzzling further into her neck. The pads of Carmilla’s fingers press against the base of Laura’s spine. The warmth of her skin sends her reeling.

 

“How did you manage to use the Blade of Hastur?” Laura asks, suddenly looking up at Carmilla with the stark curiosity she has grown to admire in the girl’s eyes. “I thought it’s supposed to kill you when you use it?”

 

“That’s what I thought too,” Carmilla drags her nails along Laura’s back. She needs to keep touching Laura to make up for all those opportunities lost. “The sword was forged for one reason, and it’s to defeat evil. So the Cult of Hastur trained this one warrior to be able to wield this powerful weapon.” She bumps her chin against Laura’s forehead and kisses her hairline. “But the problem is, the warrior became bloodthirsty and drunk on his power. He began to murder people for pure enjoyment. He thrived on the violence.”

 

“The Cult of Hastur, in order to control this madman they created, sealed him in the sword itself.” Carmilla closes her eyes when Laura starts to rub her back in soothing circles. “But the catch is that if you use the Blade of Hastur the same way the warrior did—out of your own selfish, power-hungry reasons—you will be consumed the same way the warrior was consumed, into the sword.”

 

“So the only way to get around it is to be... selfless, I’m guessing?”

 

Carmilla nods. “Pretty much. I found the sword in Mother’s office. I don’t think she knew about that loophole. It doesn’t matter anyway. I used the sword to kill the demon light and it’s gone.”

 

“Which sucks, if you think about it. I mean, what if another brand of evil comes up?” Laura smiles when Carmilla glares at her. “What? Don’t give me that look. It’s a good idea to have a contingency plan.”

 

“I don’t know about you, cupcake, but I don’t intend to do anything for the next five hundred years or so but stay in this bed with you.”

 

They fall silent for a moment and Carmilla lets out a barely audible sigh. She’s so tired; she needs to sleep. But at the same time, she doesn’t want to. She wants to spend the rest of her life awake beside Laura, even while she sleeps. For once, let the world stop for them and only them.

 

“I’m sorry I kicked you out,” Laura murmurs, soft against Carmilla’s jaw. Laura lifts her head and rests her chin on her propped arm. “I’m sorry I said all those horrible things to you when really, I just...” her voice cracks. Carmilla clamps her lips together. “Thank you. You know, for saving me and everyone else.”

 

“I only saved everyone else because _you_ would get pissed at me if I didn’t,” Carmilla says, avoiding Laura’s gaze.

 

Beside her, Laura’s body starts trembling. A slow buildup of laughter swells inside the girl’s chest and it spills out, loud and happy and the sky is opening up. Laura laughs and laughs and laughs and Carmilla watches her, thinking that this is better than watching the stars.

 

“So that’s why you could use the sword,” Laura wipes the tears on the corner of her eyes. She scoots upward, her forehead against Carmilla’s. “Because you were doing it for _me_.”

 

She’s so close that Carmilla can feel her warm breath on her cheek. Her nose grazes hers. Laura’s hand is on her cheek and it is as if the walls are caving in but in a good way. Carmilla wants to be surrounded by this life, this warmth, this Laura. So she leans in. Kisses Laura for the first time in the girl’s bed, the sun streaming through the windowpane, Carmilla’s shirt smelling like fire and ash, but neither of them giving it a second thought.

 

Laura sighs against Carmilla’s mouth and holds on to her body. Arms and legs like knots of string that will take an eternity to unfurl.

 

 _‘Which,’_ Carmilla thinks, when Laura rolls halfway on top of her to kiss her, hands roaming her pale body, _‘whatever. I have all the time in the world now.’_

 

**Author's Note:**

> “Your bargain doesn’t apply. You said only Laura can’t meddle. You said nothing about me.” — I know that in episode 32 Mother says, "If _**either of you**_ get in the way again, all bets are off." My fic disregards that, because a) I forgot that Mother did say it, and b) a major part of the story rests on the clause that Mother didn't include Carmilla in the bargain to take Kirsch instead of Laura. So I took liberties. I hope none of you mind.


End file.
